


In Quarantine

by ShayneyL



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Claustrophobia, Gen, Hallucinations, Infection, Phobias, Platonic Bedsharing, Prompt Fic, Quarantine, Whumptober 2020, Writer's Month 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25677955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShayneyL/pseuds/ShayneyL
Summary: Tom Paris is exposed to an unknown virus, and must be quarantined for fifteen days. Not a good situation for someone as claustrophobic as Tom.
Relationships: Harry Kim & Tom Paris
Comments: 23
Kudos: 35
Collections: Whumptober 2020, Writer's Month 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's Month 2020, Day 2. The prompt is "quarantine."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Tom paced the small surgical bay, mentally kicking himself for getting into this situation.

"You have only yourself to blame for this, Mr. Paris. Every other member of the away team obeyed orders, and will thus avoid quarantine." The Doctor was, as usual, annoyingly smug.

"How was I to know that area was off-limits?" It had been so beautiful, he couldn't resist. He had no idea it was infected with an unknown, possibly deadly virus. 

"It was clearly stated in the pre-mission information packet, and Mr. Tuvok conveyed the information verbally as well."

"No, he didn't!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes, but didn't reply.

"Okay, maybe I didn't notice. You know how he drones on and on."

"Mr. Tuvok does not speak just to hear his own voice, unlike some people I could name. The information he imparts could save your life…and those of the rest of the crew."

Tom had nothing to say to that. He should have been paying more attention. He vowed to himself that he would from now on, no matter how boring and long-winded Tuvok got. "Does it have to be the biohazard lab?" he asked. "Why not my quarters, or here in the surgical bay, or even the brig." The biohazard lab was very cramped, and had no windows. At least in the brig, he'd be able to see through the force field.

"Your quarters and the brig are connected to the ship's ventilation system, and would not be adequate. This surgical bay has its own life support system, but your quarantine will be fifteen days, and we cannot have the surgical bay out of commission that long. It may be needed for other patients."

"I can't believe this," Tom muttered. He was not looking forward being confined in such a small space for so long, without even a window to look out of.

"Enjoy your two week vacation, Mr. Paris." The Doctor hesitated, then handed him a small medical pouch. "There's a couple of mild sedatives in there, in case you need them."

"Thanks," Tom said, realizing that the Doctor was actually being kind. Well, for him. He knew about Tom's claustrophobia, and was trying to help. Tom knew from past experience that medication tended to make the anxiety worse, but he appreciated the effort.

"The lab has its own replicator, and the Captain had a cot installed. You'll have free use of the computer and comm system, and if you want anything that can be transported in, just ask."

Tom nodded. "Let's get it over with."

"Good luck. Computer, beam Lt. Paris to Biolab Zeta-3."

The transporter beam took him, and Tom was in the cramped, dark lab. True to the Doctor's word, there was a cot along one wall, with bedding neatly piled on it. There was also a stack of padds on the desk…books and things meant for his entertainment. He'd brought this on himself, but the captain and the rest of the crew was trying to make it easier on him.

He was all right for the first couple of hours. He turned up the lights to maximum, and tried to lose himself in a novel. It helped, but soon the rising anxiety made it impossible to read. He looked at the medikit the Doc had given him, now lying on the lab bench. He resisted for another hour, but eventually decided to try one of the sedatives.

He should have known better. He _did_ know better, but he was desperate. The drug lowered his inhibitions…which made his fears and anxiety even worse. He started imagining dying alone in this tiny room, his body not found until they opened up the lab in two weeks. Was the air getting thinner? If the ventilation system failed, would anyone know?

He was being ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn't help it. He could barely keep himself from running to the door and clawing at it. Which would do no good. It was locked, and there was nothing he could do to get it open. He was trapped. He would never get out, he would die here, and no one would know until it was too late…

"Kim to Paris." The voice from the comm nearly made him jump out of his skin.

"Harry?"

"Hi, Tom. Sorry I couldn't see you before you went into quarantine, but I was on duty. Anything I can send you?"

_Yes. Yourself_. Being with someone always made his claustrophobia fade, and Harry was possibly his favorite person to be with in the entire galaxy. But that wasn't something he could ask, so he just said, "I think I'm set. I have a lovely cot and a stack of books. What more could a man ask for on a two week vacation?"

He tried to keep it light, but Harry could tell something was wrong. "Tom…are you all right?

Tom realized he was panting audibly. Hearing Harry's voice helped, but not enough. He tried to come up with something suave and reassuring to say, but he was all out of suave and reassuring at the moment, and found himself confessing the truth. "No, I'm not. Harry, I don't know if I can make it fifteen days."

Harry knew about Tom's claustrophobia. "The lab is much bigger than the Jefferies Tubes, and you're all right in them."

"Because it's only for a short time. I think it's knowing I can't get out for two weeks that's getting to me. I keep thinking I'll die in here and no one will know."

"The Doctor is monitoring your life signs. I'm sure he'll notice if you die."

Of course. Tom should have remembered that. But he found it didn't help much. He still felt trapped and panicky. "Harry…just talk to me for awhile. It really helps to hear your voice."

Harry obliged, sharing some of the ship's gossip and talking about what was ahead according to the star charts. Tom found his anxiety ticking down slightly, now that he wasn't quite so alone.

Eventually Harry asked, "Do you know what caused your claustrophobia?"

Tom did. "My sisters."

"Your sisters? I thought you liked your sisters."

"I do. But when I was five, they locked me a luggage bag. For hours."

"That's awful!"

"My parents were so mad when they found out. My sisters were just kids themselves at the time. They didn't mean to leave me there, they just…forgot. They felt terrible."

"Sometimes I'm really glad I'm an only child."

Tom thought about his sisters, wondering how they were doing back in the Alpha Quadrant. He felt a little calmer, listening to Harry's deep, pleasant voice talking about who the Delaney twins were dating this week, whether Chakotay had given up on the Captain yet, how Neelix was planning to cook the vegetables they'd picked up at their last stop…he fell asleep.

* * *

The sound and flash of the transporter awoke him. He thought he was dreaming. It looked like Harry…beaming into the biolab with a cargo container and a duffel bag.

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry." It _was_ Harry. What the…?

Tom jumped up, and got as far away from Harry as he could. Which wasn't far. It was a small room. "Are you crazy? You're not supposed to be here!"

"I know," Harry said. "But I thought you might like some company."

Tom would like some company, very much so, but Harry was risking his life. And disobeying the Captain. "Get out!"

"I can't," Harry said. "Now that I've been exposed, I have to stay here for fifteen days."

That was true, Tom realized. He shut his eyes, groaning. "Harry, what were you thinking? The captain's going to kill you. If the virus doesn't do it first."

"We don't even know if you have it, or if it's harmful to humans. If it is, the Doctor will figure something out."

"You're insane."

A voice over the com interrupted Harry's reply. "Bridge to Ensign Kim." It was Tuvok.

"Kim here, sir." Harry sounded calm, but he looked a little nervous.

"You have breached the security of the biolab."

"Yes, sir."

"You will now be required to remain there for fifteen days."

"Yes, sir. I know, sir."

Janeway's voice broke in. "Harry, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Keeping a friend company."

There was a long silence. "What am I going to do with you two?"

"Tom had nothing to with it, Captain. It was my decision."

"We will discuss this in fifteen days. If you're still alive then. For now, consider yourself on report."

"Yes, Captain."

"Bridge out."

Harry took a deep breath, settling himself. Then he looked at Tom, who was still trying to stay as far away from Harry as the tiny space allowed. "You heard them, Tom. I'm stuck here for the full fifteen days. If you're going to stay plastered to the wall the whole time, it's going to be a little awkward."

Tom found himself unable to respond. He knew how hard Harry found it to break the rules, yet he'd done it. For Tom.

Harry waited a beat for a reply, and when he didn't get one, he pulled a large tube from his duffel bag. "It's a portable viewscreen. I thought we could watch movies, or at least put some scenery on it, so it would look like a window." He looked around the small room. "That wall has some space…"

Before he even realized what he was doing, Tom rushed forward, throwing his arms around Harry.

"Oof," Harry grunted. "If I'd known a viewscreen would make you so happy, I'd have beamed it in earlier."

It wasn't the viewscreen. It was Harry. With Harry here with him, he could do this. "You shouldn't have done it, you idiot," Tom said. "But I'm glad you're here."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for Whumptober prompt #18, "Phobia."

They made good use of the viewscreen that night. They were both fond of 20th century movies, and watched _Roman Holiday_ and _To Catch a Thief_. Harry picked them; he thought the interesting locations would make it feel like they were traveling. It didn't, but they were good movies.

Then they prepared for bed. Harry set the viewscreen to show the passing stars, as if were a window. He had brought a bedroll, and rolled it out beside the cot, really the only place there was enough room. "Try not to step on me if you get up to pee in the middle of the night," he said. He put his sleep mask on.

"What's that for?" Harry had worn the sleep mask back when they first met, but so far as Tom knew, he hasn't used it for a long time.

"In case you want to sleep with the lights on," Harry said. "Good night, Tom." He lay down.

Harry was out of view, lying beside the cot like that, and Tom found that made him anxious. It looked like he was alone in the room, even though he wasn't. He'd been sleepy by the end of the second movie, but now sleep seemed very far away. After awhile, he ordered the lights dimmed, thinking it might be better if he couldn't see anything.

It didn't help. He felt so isolated, the lab becoming more and more like a coffin with each passing second. _The Doctor is monitoring you_ , he told himself. _Harry's right beside you, just out of sight. You're not alone_ … But his pulse raced faster and faster.

"You all right?" Harry sat up, pulling off his mask.

Tom realized he was breathing so hard Harry noticed. Maybe even woke him up. "I need to know you're here, Harry. Could you like…make some noise or something?"

"All night?"

"Yeah," Tom said, even though he knew he was being ridiculous.

"Well, according to Libby I snore when I'm really drunk, but I don't think the Captain would appreciate my replicating booze when I'm already on report."

"This cot has room enough for both us," Tom blurted. "Um, isn't it uncomfortable on the hard, cold floor?" It was what he really wanted. To be able to touch Harry, just to know he was there.

There was a silence, then Harry said, "You're right, Tom. It is hard and cold down here." He got up and climbed under the blanket with Tom. "Thanks, this is more comfortable."

Tom edged toward Harry. Harry ruffled his hair; Tom took that as permission, and snuggled closer. He knew damn well Harry was only pretending that it was Tom doing him a favor, rather than the other way around. Tears pricked his eyes, a mix of relief and gratitude at having a friend like this. Finally, he was able to sleep.

* * *

The next day, Tom lounged on his cot, watching Harry work. "What are you doing?"

Harry was busy doing…something. It involved moving a lot of things around, and raising a lot of dust.

Harry tended to get absorbed in what he was doing, and didn't seem to hear Tom. "Harry?" Tom drew in a deep breath to call louder, but it came in tickly, making him sneeze.

Harry was suddenly in front of him, offering a box of tissues. "Tom, are you okay? Are you getting sick?"

Tom tried to answer, but found himself grabbing a tissue and sneezing into it instead. Finally able to speak, he said, "No, I'm not getting sick. It's all the dust. But at least I know how to get your attention now."

"Oh. Sorry. Computer, increase filtration and ventilation."

"What are you doing, anyway?"

"Installing holoemitters," Harry said. "So the Doctor can treat you if necessary."

"Can't he use just use the mobile emitter?"

"He could, but he would have to disinfect it after every visit. With the holoemitters, it would make it a lot easier for him to come here."

"And that's a good thing?"

Harry rolled his eyes, shoved the box of tissues into Tom's hands, and went back to work.

It was an excellent idea, Tom decided, when Harry tried out the installation an hour later. Though the stated purpose was to faciliate the Doctor's medical visits, it had the side benefit of turning the lab into a mini holodeck. Harry tested it by running the standard beach program that came with every holodeck. Tom looked around at the sunlit sands and crashing waves, delighted. "This is great!"

"Be careful," Harry said. "This lab is too small to be a real holodeck. Not to mention crowded. I think we should probably only run programs like this if we're not moving."

Tom nodded. They'd run the risk of banging into the lab bench, desk, shelves, and the other clutter if they moved around too much. Still, this was way better than looking at the same four walls.

Carefully, Harry felt his way over the cot, and sat beside Tom. "Now for the real test. Kim to Sickbay."

"What is it, Mr. Kim?" The Doctor sounded like they'd just interrupted something important, but that's how he always sounded.

"I've installed some holoemitters. When you have a chance, get down here and try them out. See what you think."

Apparently, the Doctor wasn't busy, because he suddenly appeared in the middle of the lab. He walked toward them, until he bumped into what was probably the desk. Muttering, he adjusted his holomatrix so he could walk through solid objects.

"Very good," the Doctor said. "Why didn't the captain didn't inform me?"

"She doesn't know," Harry said. "Yet."

"I see." The Doctor went over to the replicator, and ordered a standard medical kit, and a list of drugs. He returned with a scanner and tricorder, and ran it over them.

"Well, will I live?" Tom asked.

"No sign of illness in either of you so far. I'll leave the medical gear here, in case it's needed later. Computer, suspend beach environment." The lab reappeared, and the Doctor stashed his medical supplies in a cabinet. "So you two don't knock it over blundering around."

"Thanks, Doc," Harry said, but he was already gone.

"Harry…you did this without the Captain's approval?"

"I don't think she'll mind," Harry said. "If she does, I'll remove them when the quarantine is over."

That wasn't what Tom meant. "You used your own replicator rations to make the holoemitters?" Tom knew those were costly.

"It's not like I have a lot of other things to spend them on at the moment."

"Do you have enough for food?"

Harry shrugged. "If I run out, I'm sure Neelix will be happy to beam meals in here for me."

Pity Harry if he got sick and ran out of rations. Neelix's cooking wasn't gentle on queasy stomachs. Tom made a mental note to treat Harry to dinner tonight.

* * *

The beach program was running again, this time in night mode. There were a lot of other options, but Tom had always loved the sea. He lay on the cot, looking up at the holographic night sky. This was much better than the previous night had been, but he still felt confined. Unlike on a real holodeck, he couldn't move around freely, and was painfully aware of it. Harry had gone to a lot of trouble and expense to install the holoemitters. Tom wondered if it was because he didn't like last night's sleeping arrangements and was hoping to get out of sleeping with Tom again. He frowned, trying to think of a way to ask Harry to share the cot again.

It wasn't necessary. Harry sat beside Tom. "You going to be okay, or do you want me to…?"

Tom took Harry's hand, and gave it a tug. Harry understood, and slid under the blanket with Tom.

Tom sighed. He was about as content as he could be, under the circumstances. The stars twinkling overhead, the scent of the sea air, the soothing sound of waves crashing, and Harry's hand warm in his. Before long he was asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for Whumptober prompt #16, "hallucinations," and prompt #21, "infection."

Tom woke in the middle of the night. He was freezing. Environmental controls must be malfunctioning, he thought, but he was too tired to check. He pressed closer to Harry, shivering.

Cool fingers brushed over his forehead. Harry. He'd woken Harry.

"You're burning up," Harry said softly. "I'll get the Doctor here."

The environmental controls were fine, he realized. He was sick. Somehow, he'd expected to be spared. He should know better. If something could go wrong, it would. At least for him.

The lights brightened. He pulled the blanket over his head. It was firmly pulled down. "How do you feel, Mr. Paris?"

It was the Doctor, hovering over him with a scanner and a medical tricorder.

"Like I'm going to die."

"Could you be more specific, Mr. Paris? Please describe your symptoms."

"I'm cold. My throat hurts. And I've got an awful headache."

"Fairly ordinary symptoms of a viral infection." A hypo hissed against his neck. "That should help."

"Doc," Harry said. "Is he going to be all right?"

"Yes, so far as I can tell, but as this is an unknown illness, I can't be sure. I will be monitoring him closely. Make sure he rests and gets plenty of fluids." He hesitated, then added pointedly, "Non-alcoholic fluids."

"Party pooper," Tom muttered. The last thing he wanted at the moment was alcohol, but he had a reputation to maintain.

"Call me in the morning and let me know how it's going. Or any time, if you need further medical advice."

"Thanks, Doc." The Doctor blinked out, and Harry went to the replicator. He came back with a thick, heated blanket, which he spread over Tom. "I'd raise the room temperature, but I suspect you're going to be feeling too hot soon."

Tom relaxed into the warmth of the blanket. He felt much better. There was just one thing missing. "Harry, come to bed."

"You sure?"

"Please, Harry, I can't be alone."

"Okay. Drink this first."

It was a glass of juice. Tom sat up, drank it down, and waited impatiently for Harry to recycle the glass and come back.

Harry ordered the lights off and the beach program back on, then lay down beside Tom. Tom immediately wrapped himself around Harry. "You're going to be sorry you're here," Tom said. "I get really whiny and annoying when I'm sick."

"So, just like you are the rest of the time," Harry said. But his hand was gently rubbing Tom's back, and Tom knew he was just teasing.

"Mmmm." He felt deliciously warm and safe and comfortable, and was soon asleep.

* * *

The next two days passed in a blur. Tom mostly slept. Harry was remarkably patient, even when Tom knew he was being a pain. When Tom demanded spinach and pear juice instead of orange juice, Harry brought it. When he refused tomato soup and asked for chicken soup instead, Harry complied, eating the tomato soup himself — even though Tom knew Harry didn't care for tomato soup. Most of all, when Tom insisted Harry stay with him, he did. When he roused from his feverish dreams, Harry was always at his side, napping, reading a padd, or watching a movie.

Finally, on the third day, Tom woke up feeling…normal. Maybe a little weak, but normal. "I'm not sick any more."

The Doctor agreed when they called him. "You've cleared the virus, Mr. Paris. You'll have to go through decontamination procedures, but after that, you're free from quarantine."

For a moment, Tom was flooded with relief. He could finally get out of this coffin. Then he remembered. "What about Harry?"

"Mr. Kim will have stay here a few more days. He's showing signs of infection."

Tom hadn't noticed before, but Harry did seem a bit…subdued. Not his usual energetic self. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes dull. His skin was hot when Tom pressed a hand to his forehead.

"It's okay, Tom. Go. I'll be fine."

"I'll stay here to take care of him," Tom said, before he even realized what he was saying.

"No! I'll be all right here alone."

"You stayed here with me, I'll stay here with you."

"I'm not claustrophobic, though. I don't mind staying here alone."

"Well, I don't want you here alone." The Doctor had come a long way over the years, but his bedside manner still left a lot to be desired.

"Tom…"

"Shut up and rest, Harry."

"Excellent, Mr. Paris," the Doctor said. "I'll leave you some recommended medications. If you were any example, this virus shouldn't be beyond your capabilities to treat. And I will, of course, be only a comm away."

"He seemed awfully eager to dump me off on you," Harry said when the Doctor left.

"It's Wednesday, his golfing day." He pushed Harry to lie down. "Actually, it's a good sign. He doesn't think it's serious, or he'd want to be here to take notes for his next paper."

Harry was an easy patient. Unlike Tom, he didn't become whiny or demanding. He ate whatever Tom brought him. Including the garlic soup. The only time he asked for something was at bedtime. Tom was planning to spend the night in the desk chair. The chair wasn't ideal, but he could see Harry if he wanted to, so didn't feel too panicky.

Harry didn't like the idea. "Come to bed, Tom."

"You'll be more comfortable if you can sprawl out. I'll be okay."

"I'll be more comfortable if I know you aren't trying to sleep sitting up."

Tom hesitated.

"Come _on_."

Tom gave in, and crawled under the blankets with Harry.

He woke up in the middle of the night, when Harry shook his shoulder. "What is it, Har?"

"Go replicate a phaser," Harry whispered. "I'd do it, but I don't have enough rations."

"A phaser?" Tom wondered he was dreaming, or Harry was. "Why do we need a phaser?"

"The Vidiians!" Harry pointed. Tom looked. The only thing he saw was a holographic palm tree.

"You're dreaming, Harry. There's nothing there."

"Get a phaser, Tom! They'll see us soon!"

Tom felt Harry's forehead, and the side of his neck. He was a little warm, but not feverish enough to be delirious. "It's just a dream, Harry. There are no Vidiians. We left Vidiian space behind years ago."

"They're right there! Don't you see them?"

Tom ordered the lights on and the beach program suspended. There was nothing there but the cramped lab. Harry still seemed to be staring fearfully at...something. Tom tried to get up to get his medikit, but Harry grabbed him. "It's too late. They've seen us."

"Paris to Sickbay."

"What is it, Mr. Paris?"

"Something's wrong with Harry. I don't know if he's dreaming or hallucinating, but he's seeing things that don't exist."

"Be right there." Good as his word, the Doctor immediately appeared at their bedside.

Harry started. "Hirogen!" he yelled.

"Harry, it's not the Hirogen. Whatever you're seeing, it's not real." Harry was panting, looking around wild-eyed. Tom patted his back, trying to soothe him.

The Doctor fetched his medical supplies from the cabinet, and began scanning Harry. "Not dreaming or delirious. Just hallucinating."

"Why? I didn't hallucinate." Did this mean Harry's case was worse?

"Different people have different reactions to pathogens," the Doctor said. "It's impossible to tell how rare this particular virus symptom is, since the sample size at the moment is just two. A situation I hope doesn't change."

"Can you give him something?"

"It doesn't appear to be too serious, and is probably temporary, so I don't want to give him anything too strong. I'll give him some theragentac. That should reduce his anxiety and the intensity of the hallucinations." He pressed a hypo to Harry's neck. "You can give him another dose in four hours, if he needs it. If he doesn't settle down in 30 minutes, we'll try something else."

"Thanks, Doc." The Doctor returned to sickbay, and Tom turned his attention to Harry, who seemed to be much calmer. "Do you still see Vidiians and Hirogen?" Tom asked.

"Yeah. But I know they're not real."

"Good. Try to sleep. I'm real, this lab is real, anything else you see isn't." He was planning the leave the lights on and the beach program off, figuring it would help Harry tell what was real and what wasn't, but Harry ordered the lights off and the beach program on.

"I think I'm hearing things, too," he said. "The sound of the waves makes it easier to ignore."

It wasn't an easy night. Harry would fall asleep for awhile, then wake up in a panic, hearing and seeing things that weren't there. Once he was awake, he would remember they weren't real, and go back to sleep. For awhile.

After the third time, Tom got up to give Harry another shot of theragentac. Harry sighed when Tom came back to bed. "Thanks, Tom. For staying here with me."

"Any time, buddy." He hated to think what it would be like for Harry to go through this alone.

Toward the morning, the hallucinations became distinctly less threatening. Only half-awake, he heard Harry talking to Libby. He seemed happy, not distressed, so Tom rolled over and went back to sleep.

Tom slept late, and when he got up, Harry was staring at something unseen, with an utterly sweet, charming smile on his face. Whatever it was, it wasn't a Vidiian.

"Morning, Harry. What are you looking at?"

"My cat. I know he's not real. He died when I was 16."

"I'm sorry," Tom said automatically.

"He was very old for a cat. Died peacefully in his sleep at age 27. My mom got him before she got me."

"Wow." Tom wasn't sure how long cats lived, but that would be Methuselah for a dog. He got up and fetched the medical kit. "How are you feeling?" He ran the scanner over Harry.

"Better," Harry said. He was curled on his side, still watching the invisible cat.

The readings looked pretty good. Harry still had a slight fever, but it looked like he was past the worst. "What do you want for breakfast?"

Harry's eyes lit up. "Waffles. With squill syrup. And sausage."

A good sign. Harry hadn't had much of appetite since he got sick. Tom went to replicate the requested meal.

* * *

The hallucinations slowly faded over the day. The night was uneventful, and the Doctor released them both the next day. They were undergoing decontamination in sickbay, to make sure they weren't carrying the virus on their skin or clothing, when the captain commed Harry. "Janeway to Kim." She didn't wait for him to answer. "My ready room. 1130 hours."

"Yes, Captain." Harry looked like he'd rather face the Vidiians.

"Want me to go with you?" Tom offered.

"No," Harry said. "She wouldn't let you anyway."

Tom knew that, but had to offer anyway. Harry was on report because of him. "Come to my quarters afterwards. I'll buy you lunch." _Because you might not have any rations for a long time._

But Harry was downright bouyant when he appeared in Tom's quarters shortly before noon. "She let you off light?" Tom asked.

"Yup." Harry grinned. "Docked me a week's worth of rations, and I have to work double shifts for two weeks."

That was about what Tom had expected. The rations were the hardest part of the punishment. Harry often worked double shifts anyway. Voluntarily.

"I was afraid she was going to throw me in the brig, or at least demote me to crewman. So, what's for lunch?"

Surely Harry had to be kidding. He really disobeyed orders, thinking he might end up in the brig? For Tom?

"Tom? You okay?"

"Fine. Harry…thanks. I don't know what I did to deserve a friend like you."

"What do you mean? You did the same for me. We're even now."

_No, we're not. And I won't forget_. But he couldn't quite bring himself to say it out loud. So he said, "I was thinking chicken Maryland with mashed potatoes, maybe with some hush puppies and karvino fritters, and a spinach soufflé …"


End file.
